


become ghosts inside you, and like this you keep them alive

by salviaplath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Analysis, Character Study, Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Drabble, Other, POV Daenerys, inspired by that last ADWD chapter, mostly book dany though, slight spoilers for both, somewhere between show and book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18956197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salviaplath/pseuds/salviaplath
Summary: I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life!





	become ghosts inside you, and like this you keep them alive

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And He Wept for his Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18951745) by [rebels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebels/pseuds/rebels). 



_All men must die._

We were not men. Women did not die, not to Daenerys Stormborn. The maegi lived when her town was raped and raided, set to torch - her son never did, nor Drogo, only the dragons. She still heard her screams, she never wanted, and knew she was haunted. The blood witch still lived, in that her premonitions live in Daenerys’ head without end - in her heart, her womb. _Only death may pay for life._ I will never bear a living child, only dragons. I was never a mother, the mother to them all, only a mother of dragons. Of death, of fire... Of life. She read once that dragons changed gender, never male or female, neither or both, they were life and death also.

Eroreh lived, until she didn’t, they will die for what they did to her. She wanted their lives, their screams. She wanted justice, justice for Eroreh, for every woman that still lived but didn’t, in limbo in memory. Justice for injustice. Hazzea lived, still lives in Daenerys’s head, in her heart - of her charred bones in linen, in a dragon’s jaws like blades. She remembered seeing herself in Drogon’s eyes - so small, a child again, if she was ever - and the flame growing in the back of his throat, like looking into hell. She imagined - _the girl, the child,_ her name dying on her tongue, tears burnt away on her face - saw the same, felt the same fear Daenerys once had at her brother’s hand, _you’ve woken the dragon._ Missandei lived in Naath, in chains, when her brother died, in Astapor to Mereen, with her. Lived in nineteen languages, in the tiny braids in Daenerys hair, in the memories living within her (butterflies and climbing high, flying higher, lemon trees), in her wise advices - _dracarys_ \- in Daenerys’ heart, her head. 

Her mother lived, lived in her - in the stories of violet eyes the same as her own, of storms of Dragonstone - of her crown sold for Daenerys to eat, to live; the brother she knew died that day. Rhaella lived in an unspoken legacy, unknown to any but Daenerys - she was not the Mad King’s child, that was her brothers, she is her mother’s daughter.

Lyanna Stark lived in the long set of Jon’s jaw, his hard then soft as fog grey eyes, like her sepulcher still living, blinking something unsaid in his eyes. He only ever knew her as dead, not his, not his mother. Her brother - the other one, the one she never knew - was deader, deader than ever in Jon. She sees no violet in his eyes, no storms fire or thunder or sand or snow, only a man dead - dead, and living. Set to life again upon a pyre - _like my children, what’s only ever been mine, not stolen from her by another’s hand, usurper or death, not a woman dead or living, with me, without me_ \- and _unburnt,_ like her. Would he bring her her death like his mother had brought her brother, that he brought her in Jon? Would he die, at her hand - because of her - like so many? Would they live and die and live together again? No ghosts, no purgatories, only them, finding each other’s whole beings greater than the sum of their parts? _Who would ever dare love a dragon?_ Only another dragon, she knew.

Not today, we may pray.

**Author's Note:**

> "Valar morghulis. All men must die.
> 
>  
> 
> Perhaps Jon Snow belonged on her list as well.
> 
>  
> 
> They were the words that couldn’t escape her mind as she slinked into the crypts of Winterfell. All men must die, and they did. They died so easily. She skipped over the faces of women. Women didn’t die. Not in her memory, they didn’t."
> 
> 'And He Wept for his Mother' is beautiful, the above line inspired all of this, so you should read it.


End file.
